


The Way I Perceive You

by PotterHorseSpirit



Category: Romeo et Juliette - Presgurvic
Genre: (Tho not very apparent), Abuse, Angst, Angsty Boies, Arranged Marriage, Bipolar Mercutio, Character Development, Did I mention angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hate to Love, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Manipulation, Marriage, Mental Health Issues, Mentions of implied eating disorder, Multi, Period-Typical Sexism, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Revival Cast, Soft Boies, Temporary Amnesia, They're like 18-20 ish, Trans Character, Transphobia, Tybalt is not in love with Juliet, varied chapter length
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:01:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 20
Words: 15,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22166059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PotterHorseSpirit/pseuds/PotterHorseSpirit
Summary: Mercutio's life is turned on its head when he gets married away. To a Capulet, no less. Struggling to adapt, he leaves his friends behind to live through the hard life with his new spouse. Will they come to love each other as time goes?Meanwhile, Benvolio can do nothing but watch as the Mercutio he once knew disappears. Not able to stop it, he grabs on to every possibility to save his friend - even if it means fraternizing with the enemy.
Relationships: Mercutio/Benvolio Montague, Mercutio/Benvolio Montague/Tybalt, Mercutio/Tybalt (Romeo and Juliet)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30
Collections: Romeo & Juliet / Romeo et Juliette Fanfic Exchange 2019





	1. Tybalt, Tybalt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BringHimJoy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BringHimJoy/gifts).



> For Ophelia, who wanted angst and Mercutio, which I was all too happy to provide. Happy (late) new year, may your 20's be good!
> 
> Please note that this story may contain triggering material - please refer to the tags. Most is only briefly mentioned, but please stay safe.

Mercutio was at the end of his wits. He knew most of the population of Verona, especially the Capulet side, didn’t see him as male. He knew he wasn’t the best at stopping their curiousity. He knew he was young, single, had a high rank and - in his own humble opinion - was _smoking hot_. However, he really hadn’t expected this unfortunate turn of events. 

As he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, he tried to figure out where he went wrong. Thinking back to the past few years of his life, to finding friends among the Montagues and making it very clear to his uncle where his loyalties lay. Of sneaking out in the middle of the night to see Romeo and Benvolio waiting there for him, of them shushing him as he laughed hysterically from the joy of burning his old gray dresses, clad in his new purple coat. 

No, there was really no reason for his uncle to think that Mercutio would ever be happy with being married away. To a _Capulet_ , no less. An ultimate betrayal to his friends and everything he stood for. Perhaps if he could have married the young Juliet, things could have been okay - of all the Capulets, she was his favourite. Just as uninterested in the age-old quarrel as he himself, and a kind, sweet girl who knew how to stand up for herself. Yes, Mercutio could definitely respect that.

But no, to add humiliation to the annoyance, he was to be married to Tybalt. _Tybalt!_ Not only was Tybalt a huge pain in the behind, but it also made it very clear what both Lord Capulet and his uncle, the prince, thought he was. _Girl._

Mercutio growled, swatted at his head and forcibly turned over to bury his head into his pillow. There was nothing to be done about it, unless he wanted to jump out from the palace roof - and while it was definitely tempting, he appreciated life and all of its small joys. Also, he couldn’t leave his friends behind to fend for themselves. They would be doomed without him to save them.

He laughed a little at himself, then sighed and settled down to sleep. _This_ , he thought, _is a battle for another day_.


	2. Pourquoi

_ Knock. Knock. Knock. _

Mercutio groaned.

“Please go away, please go away,” he whispered to himself.

“Mercutio!” Romeo’s voice carried clearly through the door. “If you won’t open, we’re coming in!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake…” He slapped his pillow over his head, determined to shut the world out. He could hear the two having a muttered discussion out in the hallway, before there was a small ‘bang’ and the door flew open. Seconds later, his pillow was torn away from him. He winced.

“Please, just leave.”

“Christ, Mercutio, what happened to you?”

Benvolio’s disapproving but worried voice made him look up at them briefly before turning his attention to his blanket. He knew he looked like crap. His hair messy, eyes red from crying, wearing nothing but his improvised chest bindings, bloomers and the blanket that was lazily thrown over him. He hadn’t eaten in days, and it had been even longer since he’d left the room. 

Shrugging, Mercutio decided all of this was too much to bother explaining. “A lot, I guess.”

His friends glanced at each other, silently communicating. Benvolio moved over to the windows, opening the curtains, while Romeo walked over to the closet and started looking through the clothes hanging there.

“I thought you burned all this,” Mercutio heard him murmur. Louder, he said “Hey, ‘Cutio, where are all the clothes you bought?”

“Gone.”

Both of the Montagues stopped in their tracks. “But I thought you…”

“Not me.”

Unable to keep the mask on any longer, Mercutio buried his face in his hands as he broke down, sobbing loudly. Soft hands hesitantly came to rest on his shoulders, and he felt the bed dip on either side. The grief, the  _ humiliation _ , it was all too much. How dare his uncle take his entire life and flip it upside down! He cried and cried, and his friends sat there with him as he wept himself dry of tears. 

When he finally sniffed and let his hands fall down to his lap, he coughed and tried to find his voice. “My uncle… I’m…” He sighed and tried again. “I’m getting married. Arranged, of course - I don’t really feel like marrying anyone just yet.” Looking up at their worried faces, he tried to look apologetic. “It’s a Capulet, ‘Meo. I’m getting married to a goddamn Capulet!”

In a hesitant voice, Benvolio butted in from his left. “And the clothes..?”

Mercutio sighed and tried to rub the teartracks from his cheeks. “It’s a guy. I was promised away to a guy, as a girl. To quote my uncle: ‘I have kept up with your strangeness long enough, now it is time for you to behave - and dress - like a proper young lady’. They took it all. Including the coat. I’m sorry.” 

After that, Mercutio couldn’t find it in himself to respond anymore to any of their many questions; he was tired and merely wanted to sleep until he somehow found a solution to his dilemma. Refusing to leave, the Montagues decided it was time for a mid-day sleepover. 

As they lay there, all three comfortable in Mercutio’s spacious bed, Benvolio whispered from the dark. “Who is he?”

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Mercutio’s voice broke as he answered. “Tybalt. The wedding is in two days.”

He felt Benvolio nod before turning away. It hurt more than he would admit to himself, and he wanted to reach out to Benvolio and hug him. He didn't. Nothing else was said before they all fell asleep.


	3. C'est Ce Qu'y A D'plus Beau

“No. Absolutely no.”

“But my lady, it’s -”

“Don’t you dare ‘my lady’ me. Leave.”

“But Mercutia -”

“Now.”

Scoffing at him, the maid scurried from the room, leaving behind the veil and the tiara. 

"And it's Mercutio!" He shouted after her. 

He picked both items up, making a disgusted sound. Turning around he spotted the reflection in the mirror.

Before him stood a young girl, wearing a long, pink dress. Dark, curly hair was set up and decorated with flowers, and the makeup was soft and feminine. He let his eyes roam over the pink-clad body, and felt his gaze stop at the soft curves of hips and - worst of all - a sizeable chest. He felt like he was going to puke. 

Turning away from his reflection, he took a deep, shaky breath. “It’s just for today,” he muttered. “Just today.”  _ Oh dear gods above, please let it be just today _ . Shaky hands reached up, setting the veil in place with the help of the tiara. He didn’t know if it sat right, but he honestly didn’t care. 

Picking up his bouquet, he smiled minutely at the pale blue flower buried in a cluster of violets near the bottom of it.  _ Benvolio _ . A small act of defiance, and a reminder that he was still not without friends. Breathing deeply, he opened the door and stepped out to face the world.

The wait was maybe the worst part of it all, he thought as he stood outside the church doors. His uncle stood beside him, having insisted on seeing him through the wedding. For every minute, for every  _ second _ , Mercutio could feel his discomfort growing as his skin itched. He just wanted to get it all over with, so that he could get this thrice damned dress off. Tripping slightly and ignoring the pointed glares from the prince, he sighed as the doors finally opened to let them in.

Many people were in attendance - he was, after all, a relative of the prince. They all wanted to be respectful. Glancing around, he saw most were Capulets (he spotted Juliet near the front, looking young and beautiful as always), but near the back he saw Romeo and Benvolio smiling encouragingly at him. They were dressed in gray for the occasion, opting not to raise too much attention wearing blue in the red-tinted crowd. He appreciated that they’d come despite the risks, and smiled briefly back at them before turning his gaze back towards the altar.

Friar Lawrence met his eyes, and nodded softly. Mercutio nodded back, knowing that there was no way out of this now. Letting his attention shift slightly to the right, he observed the proud, stiff man looking at him with dark eyes. Tybalt was wearing a suit that resembled a uniform, and his two-toned hair was slicked back. His entire being oozed with egoism, aggression and possessiveness. Mercutio shuddered as he stopped next to the man, his uncle giving the Capulet a nod before moving away. 

Mercutio tuned out most of the ceremony. He couldn’t care any less about the “holy unity between man and woman” or whatever the hell friar Lawrence was nagging about. He was jolted out of his thoughts when Tybalt forcibly grabbed his arm. Resisting the urge to rip his hand away, he made himself stand still as the vows were delivered. Luckily, there was no need for him to lie his way through them, as none of them were aimed at him. They were all carefully chosen, and mostly entailed Tybalt now basically owning him. No opportunity for Mercutio to refuse.

Smiling sarcastically, Mercutio let himself be turned to face his now-husband. Half a second before it happened, he realised that this was the part of the ceremony where they were supposed to  _ kiss _ . Impulsively, he pulled away, but soon felt strong, merciless lips on his.  _ It’s just a kiss, nothing you haven’t done before, it’s all okay _ , he forced himself to think as he held his breath until the lips finally retreated.

Glancing at the Montagues in the back of the chapel, he made eye contact with Benvolio and quickly aimed his gaze at the floor. Feeling the shame filling his body, he didn’t look back up at them as he and his spouse walked out of the church.


	4. Arrêtez, Vous Êtes Fous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for this chapter: implied/vague non-con. Please take care of yourself <3   
> If you would prefer to skip this scene, I have included a summary in the end notes.

The party had been long, far too long for his liking, but now Mercutio finally had the chance to sneak away. He shut the door to his room and let out the tension of the day in one long breath. Luckily his uncle had been kind enough to host the party, so he could sleep in his own room one more night before being forced to move in with the Capulets. 

Turning towards his bed, he threw the tiara and veil on the floor before starting the tedious work of getting out of the dress. When he could finally shrug out of it, he heaved a sigh of relief and let that fall to the floor as well. He was in the process of shaking the last flowers out of his hair when he heard the door open and close behind him.

“Wrong room,” he said, assuming some drunk in-law had stumbled in.

“Oh no, I think I’m in the exactly right room.”

He turned sharply, picking up a blanket from his bed to cover himself up with as he did so. “No,  _ definitely _ the wrong one.”

Tybalt gazed back at him with those deep, dark eyes. He seemed inebriated, but not flat-out drunk, and he stood as tall and proud as always. Mercutio thought he always seemed to have a certain air about him, one that said ‘I am the boss, do not mess with me’. His eyes roamed over what was visible of Mercutio’s body, and his pupils widened. Mercutio pulled the blanket closer over himself. 

While he usually might have started jokingly flirting with Tybalt, maybe tried to make him uncomfortable, truth was that he himself was increasingly uncomfortable right now. He felt unsafe. Here in this room, with just himself and the man he was now married to and who was quite a bit bigger and stronger than him, he suddenly longed for his friends. They would have backed him up. As it was, Mercutio could do nothing but back up as Tybalt approached, until he felt the back of his knees hit his bed. His breath hitched in his throat as Tybalt’s fingers softly touched his cheek and brushed a stray lock of hair behind his ear.

“Come on now, Mercutia,” the Capulet cooed. “You won’t make a man stay away from his wife on his wedding night, will you?”

If Mercutio hadn’t been aware of Tybalt’s plans before, he certainly was now. He could feel himself starting to panic. He certainly wasn’t a stranger to having physical relationships, but the idea of being forced into bed with Tybalt was gravely unpleasing. He should've known it was coming, but he'd hoped… 

He found himself lacking the power to fight as his mind seemingly blanked out. Even as he was thrown onto the bed and Tybalt crawled closer, he couldn't move. He didn't resist when his last pieces of clothing were removed, nor when Tybalt's lips met his. Luckily, Tybalt didn't seem to demand much of him this time, happy to simply get the chance to prove himself as a 'great lover'. 

So Mercutio lay there, trying not to cry as his husband moved further and further down his body. If he moaned a few times under Tybalt's experienced attention, he would never admit it to anyone, and if he shouted his lover's name as they both came, he would carry that shame to his grave. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary:  
> Mercutio returns to his room after the wedding party and gets out of the dress. Tybalt enters, seems threatening, and has his way with Mercutio, who is too panicked to resist.


	5. Je M'en Vais

When Mercutio woke up the next morning, he temporarily forgot the events of the previous day. He could feel another presence in his bed, which to be fair wasn't all too unusual. Stretching, he turned over and swung his feet over the edge of the bed. There he stopped, opening his eyes slowly and trying to return to the world of the living. 

As he finally started to become aware of his surroundings, he noticed the clothing on the floor. Strange… a dress? He could've sworn there was a man in his bed - 

As the memories hit him, so did the wave of nausea. He ran to the washroom just in time to empty his stomach of the rest of the wedding dinner. Shaking, he sat on the floor for a while, his head spinning. 

He was married. To Tybalt Capulet. Whom he had then slept with. And who saw him as a female. Fuck. 

Sneaking back into the main bedroom, he found himself standing there a little while, staring at the man in the bed. He had to admit, he was an attractive man, even though Mercutio really wasn't happy with the current situation. 

Lost in thought, Mercutio jumped as a voice called out for him. 

"Enjoying the view?" 

He blushed and averted his eyes, shaking his head almost unnoticeably. He could basically feel Tybalt's smirk. 

"Come." The Capulet tapped the bed beside him. "I won't bite - unless you want me to." 

Cautiously, Mercutio sat down, trying to keep as much space as possible between them. He was more prepared to fight back today, and he would make it clear that he wasn't someone to just toss around.  _ Yes _ , he thought,  _ from now on I'll be stronger _ . 

" What do you want?" he spat. 

Tybalt raised his hands in a calming gesture. "Now, now, why so hostile? Is that any way to speak to your husband?" He grabbed Mercutio's hand, and the latter flinched. "I just want to actually talk to you, get to know you - we didn't get much time for that before." 

Mercutio just kept glaring at him, and at last he sighed. 

"I'll go first, then, shall I?" 

And so Tybalt told Mercutio about his family and his childhood, about what he liked and didn't like, about practicing sword fighting (interesting, Mercutio thought) and love making (not as interesting). At last, he stopped, and looked expectantly at Mercutio. 

"Okay, Mercutia, your turn." 

He flinched, scowled and started talking. 

"First of all, stop calling me Mercutia - it's Mercutio. S-" 

"Why?" 

Mercutio's frown grew. "Because that is my name, because I'm not your wife but your husband, because I was given this godsforsaken body but refuse to let that stop me from being me." 

Tybalt seemed to stop working for a moment as he processed this, but then he laughed. "I must have misheard, you seem to be of the belief that me being with you is an act of homosexuality?" He scoffed. "I must assure you, I know a woman when I see one. However -" he held his hand up to stop Mercutio's protest "- I will humour you for now where your name is concerned, Mercuti _ o _ ."

Mercutio scanned him with his eyes sceptically for a moment, before giving a curt nod. It was better than nothing, he guessed - a start. 

They kept talking (or, Tybalt talked, Mercutio gave short, cold answers) until around midday, when Tybalt got up and started to get dressed. 

"I will send someone to show you where we'll be living from now on - for now, do as you wish for the afternoon. I expect you home by sunset."

Before Mercutio could answer, Tybalt had left the room. Sighing, he got up and started looking for something to wear. In the end he opted for the shortest, least feminine dress he could find, and put a cloak over it. 

As he left the residence, he covered his head with the hood in an attempt to go unrecognised. Sneaking past guards and servants, he headed towards the Montagues’ part of town. Shameful as he was, he needed to see his friends before leaving to live with the Capulets. 

The gatekeeper recognised him the moment he lowered his hood, and let him through without questions. Mercutio quickly went inside the mansion, up the stairs and headed towards Romeo’s room. It was the largest of the two cousins’, and thus where they would often hang out when at the Montagues’. And indeed, as he approached he could hear their voices through the door.

Hesitating slightly, Mercutio knocked. It didn’t take long before the door opened and he was engulfed in a double hug. He flinched before relaxing and hugging them both back.

“Uh, may I come in..?”

A blushing Romeo let go and stepped aside, closing the door when all three of them were in. They settled into their usual positions on his bed. The silence that fell was dense enough to feel on their skin. 

It was Benvolio who was the first to break the silence. “Are you okay?” His eyes were worried. 

Shrug. 

“We tried to come to the party, but the guards wouldn’t let us in.”

“I know.”

Another silence ensued, and Mercutio started uncomfortably tugging at his sleeves. “Could I… Can I borrow some clothes?” 

A set was thrown into his lap, and he smiled a thanks. Immediately he tore the dress off and put on the pale blue shirt and navy trousers. The sharp inhales as Romeo and Benvolio saw the marks Tybalt had left on him went ignored. He knew they hated him, that they were ashamed of him, that they wanted nothing more than to remove him from their lives. He kept his eyes lowered, unwilling to make eye contact with any of them.

“Mercutio…”

“Don’t.”

The word was supposed to come out strong and defiant, but was instead a broken whisper. Mercutio cleared his throat in an attempt to gain back his voice, but it felt useless. Nevertheless, he felt like he should say something, so he began to talk.

“I move in with him tonight. I don’t know what any of them expect from me, but… I suppose I can’t be openly seen with you anymore. Maybe you could sneak me out sometimes, or send me letters - perhaps friar Lawrence would be willing to help? I just… I don’t wanna be alone. Or alone with Tybalt, for that matter.” The last sentence was but a murmur, barely loud enough to be heard. The pity in their eyes hurt, and he wanted desperately to hurt them, but he knew that that would solve nothing. In fact, it would only make things worse. 

A hand grasped his, and he looked up at Benvolio. Silent tears shone on his friend’s cheeks, and he frowned slightly. He wanted to make those tears go away, but he didn't know how. The blonde opened his mouth, and for a few seconds he couldn’t seem to make a sound. However, when he did, it was with determination.

“Don’t give up. For me.”

Without thinking, Mercutio leaned forwards to let their lips meet, and he knew in that moment that no matter what Tybalt did to him, he would keep going for Benvolio.


	6. De Refuser

Making his way into the Capulet residence, Mercutio looked around himself. He had of course been here multiple times before, on parties and such, but it was another thing to be here and know that this was his new home. Servants and Capulets milled around, walking past him as though he was nothing more than an invisible obstruction they somehow knew to avoid. 

Tybalt had indeed sent someone to tell him where to go, and so he made his way down hallways and past rooms, trying to find their new chambers.  _ Their _ . It was a weird thing, to be expected to share his life with Tybalt Capulet.

Turning around a corner, he saw an open door to his left. As he walked past, he glanced inside. Tybalt was standing by a big window overlooking the city square. Between him and Mercutio was a desk with a matching chair, a set of drawers and a big bed. On the right wall was another door. The entire room was decorated in red.

Tybalt turned as though he sensed Mercutio standing there.

“Ah, Mercutia- o,” he corrected himself at Mercutio’s glare. “You’re finally here. Took your time.”

Frowning at the blue outfit, the Capulet gestured towards a wardrobe on the back wall that Mercutio hadn’t seen from the doorway. “In there you’ll find clothing that’s a little more… appropriate. Feel free to look around - supper will be ready soon. I have requested for us to dine alone tonight, but tomorrow we will join the rest of the family.”

Mercutio sent him another sharp glare before opening the closet. Inside was a myriad of dresses in either gray or red, or a mix of the two. There was luckily also a couple of shirts, although quite feminine.

Not turning quite towards his husband, Mercutio steeled his voice. “I require trousers.”

A shadow appeared over him, and he jumped.

“What did you say?” Tybalt loomed over him, and although Mercutio wasn’t exactly low, he felt very small. Meeting the man’s eyes, he repeated himself.

“I require trousers.”

A hand shot quick as lightning to grab his hair, and he flinched. Tybalt drew closer, close enough for Mercutio to taste his breath, and his own quickened. The grip in his hair tightened, drawing a small whine from his throat.

“I will not,” Tybalt breathed at him, staring intensely into his eyes, “let you make me look like a  _ queer _ .” The word was spat. “You will behave like the woman you are, and you will accept that in this marriage,  _ I _ am in charge. Now go. Change.”

Mercutio didn’t move. He had told himself he would be strong, and although he was very anxious about his current position, he would not back down.  _ For Benvolio. _ Looking up at Tybalt, he smirked and cocked an eyebrow.

“How intense, my dear Tybalt - one would think you’re afraid of me breaking your fragile masculinity!”

_ Smack! _

Shocked, Mercutio lifted his hands to his face and tried to pull away. The hand was still lodged in his hair, keeping him in place. He could taste blood. Rage filled him, and he spat it in his husband’s face. It probably wasn’t the best idea he’d ever had, but then again Mercutio wasn’t known for his cautious behaviour.

He would have launched himself at Tybalt and fought tooth and nail, had it not been for the sword that was suddenly pointed at his throat. He tried to reach for it, but the edge pressed closer. 

“Never,” Tybalt growled, “disobey me again.”

Sheathing his sword again, he proceeded to throw Mercutio forcefully to the floor. His head met the edge of the bed on the way, and he struggled to catch his breath.

“I will tell the maid you don’t feel well enough to eat,” Tybalt’s voice came from the doorway. He turned to leave, not casting the one left on the floor a glance. “Mercutia.”

The door closed, and the room was cast into darkness.


	7. J'ai Peur

Mercutio was anxious. It had been almost a month since he moved in with Tybalt, and he had yet to leave the house. Every day had been a battle of wills, where he fought to retain control and did his best to hurt Tybalt in whatever way he could. 

It had not been without consequences, however. The more Mercutio fought with his sarcasm and sass, the more he had to endure punches and punishments. His ribs were bruised and multicoloured, he was raw from being fucked (both literally and figuratively), and his pride was in shambles. 

Sometimes, things wouldn't be too bad. It would be late at night, when Mercutio was tired and missing his old life, missing Benvolio, and Tybalt would hold him softly. He'd kiss his forehead and tell him that everything would be alright, that he was safe, that he was loved. 

Or it could be during the day, when Mercutio sat in the windowsill and drew what he saw outside. Tybalt would come up to him, comb his fingers through his hair while looking at the drawings, and tell him how beautiful it was. How beautiful  _ Mercutio _ was. 

Yes, Tybalt could be a loving husband - but Mercutio was still fighting, and thus, he was still in pain. He  _ had _ started fighting mostly in his head now, to avoid the consequences, which had somewhat helped. Which was why Tybalt had finally asked Mercutio to come with him outside for the day. 

"I'm going to the market - you may join me, if you wish." 

It had been very tempting to refuse, but by now he was longing for a change of scenery. It would mean bearing the disgrace of presenting as a woman, in the presence of a Capulet none the less, but he was willing to do that for the time being. 

And so he found himself outside, at the market, flinching at every sudden move or sound and with Tybalt's hand firmly placed against his back at all times. 

They were walking past a stall with leatherwork; books and bags and wrist cuffs and saddles and so much more. Mercutio stopped to admire a set of intricate arm bracers, decorated with trees and tiny birds. They were beautiful, and were he still a free man he might've bought them. He glanced over at Tybalt, who had gone to inspect a pair of boots, and sighed before moving on. It wasn't worth the fight. 

He waited while Tybalt settled on buying the boots, and zoned out as he talked with the merchant. A careful elbow in his side brought him back. 

"Mercutia, I saw you looking at those bracers - did you want them?" Tybalt's face was open and inviting. He seemed honest. 

Hesitantly, Mercutio nodded. 

Tybalt turned back to the merchant. "Those bracers over there as well, please." A minute later, the soft leather was shoved into Mercutio's hands. He looked up in surprise. 

"Thank you."

Tybalt smiled and pulled Mercutio close to his side. Mercutio let him do it, and found himself smiling slightly as his husband brushed a stray lock of hair behind his ear and kissed the top of his head. Surprising them both, he took the Capulet's hand in his as they walked further along the market. 

The afternoon was actually turning out to be quite nice, Mercutio was thinking to himself when he felt Tybalt's hand tense in his. He looked up at him, saw him staring at something, and followed his gaze. Before he could stop himself, a small whine left him at the sight of Romeo and Benvolio just a little further down the road. They were walking in the opposite direction, headed straight towards them as they pointed at merchandise and laughed. 

"Don't interact with them," Tybalt murmured beside him, tightening the grip on his hand. He nodded almost invisibly. 

When there was about ten metres between them, Benvolio noticed Mercutio. He nudged Romeo, nodded in the direction of their friend, and Mercutio could see the emotions flashing across their faces. Surprise-elation-confusion-shock-anger. He tried to look away, to act like he hadn't seen them, but he kept glancing back. 

Tybalt's hand left his, and his head snapped around to look at him in panic. The man had walked over to a woman selling hand crafted sword sheaths, trusting Mercutio to follow his orders. 

Anxious and confused, Mercutio jumped when a hand touched his shoulder. He whipped around to see the two Montagues right beside him. 

"Mercutio," Romeo said. Eloquent as ever. 

Mercutio didn't react, just glanced back at Tybalt. From the corner of his eye he could see the cousins observing everything about him; his dress, his posture, his neck - he reached up to pull at the dress collar, letting his hair slide in front of his face to help cover up the bruises. He still heard their noises of disapproval. 

"Mercutio." It was Benvolio this time. "You can't let him treat you like this. You promised, remember?" 

And dear gods did Mercutio wish he hadn't promised. He longed to not be the one who had put such misery in Benvolio's voice. He remembered their kiss, how he'd cried against his lips and promised not to give up. As it was, he simply let his head fall, looking emptily at the ground. 

A hand grabbed his upper arm, trying to twist him around. "'Cutio, please -"

Suddenly, Tybalt was at his side, laying his arm around his waist protectively. He was warm and a welcome comfort after being his only contact with the world for so long. 

"Are they bothering you, Mercutia?" 

Ignoring the spluttered "Mercutia?" and "How dare you, you -", Mercutio silently shook his head. A hand on his chin tilted his head up, and he looked openly at Tybalt. His eyes conveyed nothing but genuinity, which Tybalt seemed to accept. Leaning down, he captured Mercutio's lips with his own. Mercutio accepted it willingly - he had come to appreciate his husband's firm kisses, as loving as Benvolio's soft ones were. 

As they parted, Tybalt ignored the Montagues' protests. "Come on, let's go." 

Walking away and leaving a confused Romeo and a heartbroken Benvolio behind, Mercutio could only glance back and hope they would forgive him. 


	8. Tu Perdras La Raison

A soft knock on the door roused Mercutia from his daydream. "Come in," he called, smiling slightly as he saw Juliet. 

"Hi," she said. "I thought you might want some company." 

Mercutia wordlessly pulled his knees closer and gestured to the windowsill he was sat in. She joined him, and they sat knee against knee in silence. He kept looking out the window, observing as Romeo and Benvolio joked around with some other guys near the fountain. Spring had turned to summer, and everyone outside had left their coats at home. 

Juliet watched Mercutia as he kept looking, his face blank but his eyes showing his longing. He could feel her pity, and he hated it. Being pitied was worse than being looked down at. Most of the Capulets thought he was strange and unlike what they had expected. Juliet, however, simply saw him as another human. 

Outside, Benvolio laughed at Romeo's insulted face after being splashed with water from the fountain. Mercutia's mouth twitched. 

"You miss them, don't you?“ Juliet wasn't watching the Montagues, she was watching him. He nodded. He felt like crying, but he had run out of tears long ago. She grabbed his hand. 

"Why won't you see them?" 

Because he had given up, betraying Benvolio as he did so. Because he had realised that being quiet and compliant was the easiest, and that Tybalt could actually be quite a nice man if he was obeyed. Because even Tybalt had begun to question his compliance, but it was easier than the way his heart tore when he had to choose between his previous and present life. 

He shrugged. 

Juliet sat there with him until the sun went down, then left with the promise to come back tomorrow. For a fifteen year old girl, she really was quite intelligent, and knew that what Mercutia needed wasn't someone to talk to, but rather just someone to keep him from being alone. She knew he had monsters waiting for him in the depths of his mind, and she knew how to keep them at bay. 

After she left, Mercutia sat there for a couple more hours, until finally the door opened to let Tybalt in. He walked over, put his hand on his shoulder, and joined him looking out before bending down to kiss him. Mercutia kissed him back, smiling softly against his lips. 

"How was your day?" he asked, looking up at his husband. 

"Tough, but better now that I'm here." Tybalt paused to ruffle Mercutia's hair. "I thought of maybe going to bed early?" 

Agreeing, Mercutia joined the man to bed, where they both quickly fell asleep. 


	9. T'avais Pas Le Droit

After the second month of Mercutia being fully compliant and quiet, Tybalt decided to try anything to get her lively personality back. He did like how she had stopped fighting him about everything, but he wished it hadn't come at such a high price. He feared he might have ruined her, and regretted his rough treatment the first month or so of their marriage. Nobody had ever taught him how to solve conflict, so he'd done it the only way he knew how: with violence. 

He was paying the price now. Although Mercutia was more willing to interact with him and seemed to start to get closer to him, she didn't seem happy. Tybalt didn't know how to fix that, so he did the only thing he could think of. He asked Juliet. 

"Took you long enough," his cousin grumbled. She was embroidering the edges of a gray skirt with violets; she had recently taken to making small efforts to make Mercutia feel at home. 

"So what do I do?" 

She smacked his head with the pouch holding the thread. "Think, you buffoon!" Setting her work down, she sighed exasperatedly. "Who knows Mercutia better than anyone?" 

At his confused stare, Juliet rolled her eyes. "The Montagues, of course! They always used to hang out. Mercutia watches them from your window very often."

Tybalt stuttered out a protest. "Me? With Montag- How - Never!" He crossed his arms and glared at her. She merely raised an eyebrow. 

"Well, if you have any better ideas…" 

He obviously didn't. 

Which was why he ended up sitting nervously in a tavern, waiting for Benvolio Montague to join him. 

When Benvolio entered, he immediately sat down opposite Tybalt. His body language was tense and angry. "Speak," he bit out. 

Every cell in Tybalt was urging him to fight. He knew he couldn't, though - he had to do this for Mercutia. To make up for his wrongs. Sighing, he let his prideful facade drop. 

"Look, I know I've fucked up. I know I didn't behave the way I should have, or treat her the way she deserves, but Mercutia is broken and I need to fix her. I want her to be bright and happy again, instead of so… empty." 

He glanced up at the angry Montague. "You know Mercutia maybe better than anyone. Help me. Please." 

Benvolio looked like he didn't know whether to punch Tybalt or laugh in his face. He did neither, and instead leaned slightly forwards. 

"Let me see him."

Silence fell between them as they considered each other. Eventually, Benvolio resumed. 

"Let me see him, and I will help you. I need to know what you've done to Mercutio first, how he's doing."

Tybalt thought for a moment, then offered his hand. Benvolio grabbed it, and they shook on the agreement. 


	10. Ces Mots Qu'on Attend

_ Knock knock.  _

The door opened. Mercutia paid it no mind - it was probably a maid, or maybe Juliet again? His hand twisted in the gray skirt he was wearing, tracing the violets along the hem. A bird flew by, and he dropped the skirt as he watched it float away. 

"Mercutia?" It was his husband's voice, and he smiled vacantly. "You have a visitor. Please… please just talk to him, alright?" 

Mercutia nodded absentmindedly, looking at the crowd outside. Not anyone he was interested in watching today. The door behind him shut, and he heard an unsteady breathing coming from an unknown person. 

"Mercutio?" 

"Hmm?" he hummed in response, not moving from his position in the windowsill. He wiggled his bare toes, feeling the softness of the pillow he was sat on. Footsteps were heard behind him. 

"Mercutio, please…" The owner of the voice touched his shoulder, and he flinched before holding still. His breathing quickened, and he could feel his vision blurring. Distantly, he was aware of being turned around to face the visitor, and of a soft voice talking nonsense at him. His breathing slowed after a few minutes. 

"There we go, that's it, just breathe for me, Mercutio. Good, keep breathing. Everything is okay. I won't hurt you. It's just me." The voice was familiar, and Mercutia blinked, shaking his head to clear his vision. 

"...Ben?"

Mercutia's voice was uncertain and small, but Benvolio smiled and nodded. Big hands slowly took a smaller, trembling one and held it. Shaking more and more, as though freezing, Mercutia let himself be embraced, burying his face in the other's shoulder. The built-up emotions escaped him as he cried, big heaving sobs. 

It took a long time before Mercutia calmed down, but when he at last pulled away from Benvolio’s arms, he felt more like himself than he had in months. He wiped the last tears away from his cheeks and sniffled a bit. 

“You shouldn’t be here - Tybalt will have your head. Why did you come?”

Benvolio smiled, but it was a sad, small smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“You said you would keep going for me, didn’t you? I’ve come to help you fulfill that promise. You need help, Mercutio; you’re not yourself anymore. Please, let me be part of whatever it is that’s going on in that busy mind of yours, maybe we can fix it together?” He squeezed Mercutia’s hand. “And Tybalt knows. He’s in fact the one who asked for my advice - don’t you remember him coming in right before me?”

Mercutia frowned, struggling to remember. Had he? It was so difficult to remember things and keep track of time nowadays. But yes, he had indeed been there, and he had wanted the two to talk. Weird. Maybe he had changed his mind about Montagues? Though that didn’t make sense…

“Why did he ask you?” Mercutia’s voice was slow and unsure, as though every word took immense thought to pick out.

Benvolio shrugged. “Something about me knowing you the best, I think? His pride really took a blow from it, though.” He snorted, remembering the reluctance in Tybalt’s request. Turning serious again, he gave Mercutia a compassionate look. “He regrets the way he’s treated you - I don’t know any details, but it doesn’t seem good from what I’ve seen… Hopefully he’ll give you more freedom now, so that I can help you, and then maybe you can stay with me and Romeo a little while?”

“No!”

Mercutia ripped his hand away and scuttered back into the corner of the windowsill. He curled up with his knees tucked up to his chin, rocking slightly back and forth. Benvolio, confused, tried to reach out for him, but he flinched and threw his hands up to block any attempt at grabbing him. “Don’t take me away from him!”

“Why not?”

“Because…”  _ I don’t trust you. I’m too scared. He would never let me. I don’t want to. It’s too difficult. I…  _ “I love him.”

As he said it, he realised it was true. He  _ did _ love Tybalt - not the Tybalt he first married, not the harsh, brutal man, but the man he had turned into. The one who would hold him gently when he woke up from a nightmare, or brought small gifts when he returned after a long day out, or laughed when he made a joke.

“I love him,” Mercutia repeated, a bare whisper of disbelief.

Benvolio stared at him, incredulous. “You… you  _ love _ him?  _ Him? _ ”

Mercutia nodded.

Taking a deep breath, Benvolio nodded. “Alright. Alright, that’s okay. I don’t understand it, but… we can work with that, I guess. Yeah.” He ruffled his own hair as he stood still, thinking, before nodding once more and turning to leave.

“No, wait!” Mercutia observed anxiously as Benvolio stopped, halfway to the door. “Stay. Please. I’m sorry.”

Another nod.

“Alright. I’ll stay.”

Mercutia hugged him carefully, holding him as though to make sure he wouldn’t disappear. It felt safe, and warm, and although it was absolutely terrifying, it was also somehow comforting. Benvolio smelled like memories and friendship, and Merutia inhaled the scent as far as he could.


	11. Je Suis Si Fatigué

Mercutia sighed as he threw himself onto the bed. He was absolutely exhausted. It had been a long day; Benvolio had once again come over to work on his… mental state. It took time and a heckload of effort, but it got slightly easier every time. 

Today they had started preparing for an outing. Tybalt had allowed Mercutia to leave the following saturday, and Benvolio was taking him to the church to see friar Lawrence before going for a walk in the Escalus gardens. They had decided it was still a bit early to go anywhere with a lot of people - Mercutia still had anxiety attacks every so often. 

He flipped over to look up at the ceiling. Yes, things were indeed getting better. Not just him, no, Tybalt was also improving. He could see it in the small things - like how instead of yelling when Mercutia did something he didn't approve of, he would leave the room a little while before returning and calmly explaining why he didn't like what had happened. The entire process took a lot of effort from both of them, but they were trying, and things were calmer. Nicer. 

It was weird to think back to the past five months. If someone had told him back then that he would fall in love with the man he was forced to marry, he would have laughed and told them they were crazier than  _ him _ . 

As it was, though, he  _ had _ slowly fallen in love with Tybalt. The nights his husband was out with his friends, not returning until morning, Mercutia found himself not only missing him, but also worrying (and, if he was completely honest with himself, he also felt kind of jealous. Tybalt was supposed to be  _ his _ !). 

Benvolio said it wasn't a healthy relationship, that Tybalt had manipulated Mercutia, but even if that was true, Mercutia didn't care. The realisation that he loved Tybalt was too big for him to ignore. 

He glanced towards the window. It was almost dark out - Tybalt would be home soon, just in time for dinner. He got up, flattened the wrinkles in his dress with his hands, and headed out of the room. 


	12. La Folie

"Come on, Mercutio, this way." 

Everything was bright, and colourful, and so, so loud. Mercutia stopped in the doorway, blinking at the sun. He hadn't been outside in… He actually didn't know how long it had been. Of course, he had been observing the outside world from their window, and he had been around the mansion, but not  _ actually _ been outside. It was slightly overwhelming. 

Benvolio's hand tugged him along, apparently deciding he'd had enough time to adapt. Mercutia followed him, trusting Benvolio to lead him the right way. As they walked, he kept getting distracted; twittering birds flew past, children laughed as they played, and metal glimmered from the fastenings of the clothes hanging out to dry. The smell of newly baked bread wafted out of the bakery, accompanied by the ring of the bell each time a customer entered or left. 

The world was so much brighter than Mercutia remembered it, and he suddenly started wondering about what he’d been missing out on. He looked at the trees, hanging over them with heavy branches. It was autumn, and the leaves would soon fall. He’d missed the entire of summer, and most of the spring. He hadn’t gotten to see the wild flowers bloom up on the hillside. 

He felt a stab of sadness and regret. Missing summer meant missing out on the bonfires, on going to Lake Garda with Romeo and Benvolio, on lazying around in the sun, feeling the breeze on his skin. Maybe Benvolio was right, maybe Tybalt  _ was _ bad for making him miss out on all that. 

But then again, Tybalt had taken care of him, and even brought him flowers some times. He hadn’t physically hurt him in at least a month, either - that had to count for something, right? He was getting better! Still, the lost summer could never be given back to him.

Curious, but also not wanting to know the answer, Mercutia spoke. “Ben? Did you and Romeo go to Lake Garda?”

Benvolio seemed relieved that Mercutia was remembering, but also worried about answering. Hesitantly, he nodded. 

“And the hillside?”

Another nod. Mercutia nodded back. He wasn’t offended - they had all right to go without him, especially when he wasn’t able to join, but… he had to admit it stung all the same.

He jumped when Benvolio’s hand touched his shoulder. He looked worried.

“We wanted you to join, you know. It wasn’t the same without you.”

“I know,” Mercutia replied, laughing slightly. It could barely even be called a laugh, but it was the closest thing Benvolio had heard from him in quite a while, so it was a step in the right direction.

None of them said anything else until they reached the church, both grieving the lost summer moments. Once there, Benvolio opened the door for Mercutia, who entered and looked around.

He hadn’t been there since his wedding, and it looked quite different from that day. A lot plainer, but somehow almost prettier. Serene. The stained glass windows loomed over him, the light twisting while shining through the coloured panels until it hit the confessional, making it cast deep, dark shadows on the marble floors. 

Glancing back at Benvolio, who nodded encouragingly, he made his way over to the confessional. He stopped briefly with a hand on the door, before forcing himself to open it up and go inside the tiny room. He could sense friar Lawrence on the other side, inside the other room, but he didn’t say anything. In fact, the silence between them lasted a couple of minutes before the priest broke it.

“What ails you, my child?”

Mercutia fidgeted, unable to speak. The only sound coming out of him was a tiny squeak, and he considered leaving. However, before he could do so, friar Lawrence spoke again.

“I haven’t seen you since your wedding half a year ago - I had started fearing you had turned away from God.” Though Mercutia couldn’t see the man, he could imagine his admonishing face. “You always were seeking out sins, what with your crossdressing and sodomy. It is good that that has, at least from what I have seen, stopped at last.” He paused. “It seems Tybalt has been good for you.”

Mercutia hesitated.

“Am I... Have my past sins been cleared, Father? What do I have to do to make things better?”

“It’s a start that you’re here. You should come back more often. But if you continue as you are, my child, and let Tybalt guide you, you will do well. He is a good man, he will keep you from sinning. And honour the way God created you, instead of trying to change it. To wish to change your body and self is to wish to change His creation, which is a sin in itself. No, my dear child, let your God and your husband lead you on your path towards salvation, instead of stumbling in the dark all alone.”

Mercutia nodded, not considering the fact that friar Lawrence wouldn’t be able to see it. H- She sat there contemplating a while, letting the seconds turn into minutes, before finally nodding to hi- herself and standing. 

“Thank you, Father, this was most helpful.”

Mercutia walked out, stopping directly outside the door. Turning to look at the crucifix hanging by the altar, he - she - bowed her head and prayed. She prayed for forgiveness, and strength, and guidance. She prayed that she may be a good hus- wife and fulfill her duties to her husband. 

She stopped. What even were her duties? Of course she had to obey her spouse, and follow his lead, but what else- 

Of course.

Children.

She had to give him a child, preferably a son, to carry on his bloodline. Yes, only once he had an heir would she have finished her duties. And until then, she only had to keep being a woman, as well as follow Tybalt’s lead, and she would be freed from her sins. To think that a blessed life lay before her, within her reach!

Feeling a lot lighter than when she entered, Mercutia smiled at Benvolio and headed towards the exit. He looked surprised at the change in her, but rushed to open the door. Outside, they headed towards the Escalus gardens.

Although the summer was over, there were still quite a few flowers blooming in the prince’s gardens. Mercutia let her fingers brush across lilies and roses, wincing at the prick of thorns, but kept going without complaint. Her eyes were wide in wonder as she inhaled all the scents and the fresh autumn air. None of this was new to her - she had used to basically live in her family’s gardens during the warmest half of the year - but it all felt wondrous and special. 

Smiling at a bird who stood in their path and looked at them, Mercutia carefully let her hand slip into Benvolio’s. It was warm and soft, just like him. The bird hopped along, and she kept going down the path, humming softly to herself. Stopping under a cork tree, she sat down and turned her face towards the sun, dragging Benvolio with her to the ground. 

“Things went okay back there, then?”

Mercutia only nodded in response, smiling at the warm beams of light caressing her face, eyes closed.

“And, uh, did anything get.. clearer?” Benvolio’s voice was unsure, as though he didn’t believe this sudden change would last. 

“Yes,” she said plainly. “I finally know how to clear myself of my sins and find salvation.”

“O..kay? That’s good?”

She nodded. Silence fell between them. It was an uncomfortable silence, but Mercutia didn’t notice; she was too busy taking in her surroundings. The thrill of the horned lark was music to her ears, and the wind blowing gently across her skin was like a comforting hug. Beside her, Benvolio cleared his throat. She squinted against the sun to look at him.

“And..?”

“And what?”

He sighed. “And how do you do that?”

“Oh!” Mercutia grinned. “Friar Lawrence said I was well on my way already, actually!”

Benvolio raised his eyebrows. “Did he, now?”

“Mhm! I just need to visit church and let God and Tybalt guide me on the right path. And he also told me how to do that! I need to stop trying to change myself, because I’m God’s creation, and then I need to do my duties as a wife.”

She smiled at him and turned her face back towards the sun. Benvolio didn’t say anything for a while, stunned at what she had told him. 

“Your… what? Mercutio, what are you-”

“Mercutia.”

“What?”

“It’s Mercutia.”

He frantically grabbed for something to say. “But you’ve always hated being a girl - I’ve seen how you’ve spat in people’s faces for disrespecting your name!”

Mercutia turned back to him again, and now she looked… angry?

“I told you, I mustn’t change His creation - he created me female, so I am female. Why are you against me? Don’t you want me to get to heaven?”

Angry tears were burning in her eyes, and she tore her hand from his. He looked increasingly confused and desperate. He stuttered some frantic words, before seemingly deflating.

“Of course. What… what were those duties you talked about?”

“Oh, those. Just the common stuff, you know - obeying Tybalt, letting him lead me God’s way, those things.”

Benvolio nodded. It probably wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard before.

“And of course I’ll have to give him a child. The sooner, the better - he needs a son to secure his bloodline, after all- Benvolio? Benvolio, what are you doing?”

Pale as winter snow, Benvolio grabbed Mercutia, held her tight and cried into her hair.


	13. Vous Êtes À Vérone

“Hi, Tybalt, we’re home again!”

Mercutia gave her husband a brief kiss before going to her usual spot in the windowsill. Sighing, she observed the outside. It appeared somewhat duller now that she had been outside and seen the brightness that the window hid. Behind her, she could hear Tybalt and Benvolio talk, but while she heard their words, she would very soon forget their meaning. 

“How were things today?”

“How?  _ How? _ ” Benvolio’s voice was shrill and lacking its usual calmness. “Things have just become a lot worse! I’m starting to give up hope to get my Mercutio back, but I-”

Pause. 

“Tybalt, you have to let me take him away from here.”

“What? Away where?”

“Somewhere. Out of Verona. Don’t you see? This city isn’t good for him! Perhaps one day he can return, but right now… We won’t get anywhere but backwards if he stays.”

Tybalt’s voice was slightly aggressive, the way it got when he was frustrated and didn’t know the answers. “You know well as I that Mercutia cannot leave without me, and I am in no position to leave Verona for the time being.”

“Then what am I supposed to do? I cannot help him like this!” Benvolio was almost shouting now.

“Try. Try a little longer. If it doesn’t work, we’ll reconsider, but for now, this might just be a tiny setback.”

There was a short silence, and then the door shut. Footsteps approached behind Mercutia. She crooned as he put his hand on her shoulder and kissed her forehead. Putting her hand over his, she spoke without breaking her gaze away from the window.

“Everything okay?”

She could feel him nod from where his head was buried in her dark hair. “Yeah, all good. Did you have a nice day out?”

Mercutia finally looked up at him and smiled, a big, genuine smile. 

“It was great, thank you so much for letting me go.”

“Of course.”

He kissed the top of her head again, and she tilted her head up to meet his lips. The kiss was rough and warm, and she moaned into it, reaching up to grab the front of his shirt and pull him closer. Tybalt willingly deepened the kiss, grabbing her and turning her body to fully face him. Picking her up, he carried her to the bed without taking his lips from hers.

Mercutia tugged at Tybalt’s jacket, and he threw it towards the floor. Pressing soft kisses to her neck, he reached for the fastenings of her shirt. She groaned.

“Tybalt,” she was slightly out of breath, “Tybalt, it’s time I fulfilled my duty as your wife. Please.”

Frowning, Tybalt paused in the middle of pulling her shirt off. “What do you mean, my sweet?”

“Let me give you a child.” She smiled at his shocked face. “A baby. An heir. A tiny Tybalt or Mercutia, all of our own.”

Her face fell as he slowly shook his head. “No, Mercutia.”

“But… why not? I thought you would be happy!”

“I am, it’s just…” He sat back on his heels, watching her.

“Yes?”

“Not now. Not here,” he quickly added. “We’ll go somewhere else - maybe Mantua? - and we can make it special. You’ll have time to relax far away from Verona as you wait for the child, and we’ll get the chance to… prepare.”

She beamed again. “So, soon?”

He nodded. “Soon.” 

Elated, she reached up to kiss him again. He let her, and soon they were back to their earlier activities, not thinking of the conversation they’d just had.


	14. Vous Oubliez La Confiance

“Ben!”

Mercutia launched herself at the man who’d just entered. He hugged her in return, a little bit off-balance. 

“ _ You’re _ in a good mood.”

She grinned at him and nodded.

“Tybalt and I are going to Mantua! We leave in only a short while!” Her smile fell a little. “‘s a shame we have to leave you…”

A smile tugged on Benvolio’s lips. 

“I’m coming with you, you know. Just confirmed it with your husband.”

Mercutia beamed again, shining like a star. She tilted her head back and laughed. It was a loud, joyful laughter, almost like the way she had laughed before. Benvolio looked like he might laugh himself just from hearing that sound again. 

“Oh, by the way, before I forget,” he was quick to distract himself. “Tybalt said he laid some clothes on your bed for the journey.” Picked with the help of Benvolio, of course, but Mercutia didn’t need to know that.

She almost skipped over to the bed, not knowing why she hadn’t noticed the bundle before. The clothes seemed to be a mixture of wine red and silvery gray. She picked them up to look at them, and froze.

“These are…” She turned to Benvolio. “Did he really tell me to wear this?”

He nodded, and Mercutia stood still, thinking a little while. When she reached a conclusion, she turned, walked into the washroom and started changing. 

When she returned, self-conscious in the new clothes, Benvolio was still there, waiting. Upon seeing her, it was like something lit up behind his eyes, and he looked so much happier. Seeing his reaction, Mercutia looked down at herself. 

Her chest was slightly too big for the wine coloured shirt, and the gray trousers hugged her hips. She thought she looked… weird, like she was dressed for a masquerade, yet something about the outfit made her feel very comfortable. Unconsciously, she adapted a poise that had once been her standard.

“Wow,” Benvolio breathed. “You look so… like you.”

She snorted a bit. “Well, I sure hope I do.”

“No, I meant you… You look like how you used to. Like the Mercutio I once knew.”

Somehow, the name didn’t feel all too wrong when dressed like this, so Mercutia stopped herself from correcting him. She looked at him curiously, tilting her head a bit as he stepped forwards.

“May I?” He gestured at her hair. She nodded. His hands ran through her long, dark curls, nimbly picking out strands and starting to braid it. It was calming for the both of them, and Mercutia allowed herself to close her eyes. 

“Finished.”

The word came way too soon for Mercutia’s liking, and she reached up to feel the three braids crossing the left side of her head. She looked back and smiled a thanks, but stopped at the sight of tears running down Benvolio’s cheeks. Worried, she wiped them away with her thumb, letting her hand rest there slightly. 

“Gods, Mercutio…” Benvolio whispered in a hoarse voice. “You look so good.”

Without thinking, Mercutia leaned forwards and let her lips touch his. It was brief and innocent, but passionate all the same. She parted from him, drawing back and biting her lip anxiously. Was that the wrong move to make?

Emotions battled in Benvolio’s eyes, before he made his decision and grabbed Mercutia, returning the small kiss with a bigger, deeper one. It felt familiar, like something from a dream - or maybe was it from a memory? Yes, it was; this was the same feeling as when they kissed the day after Mercutia got married… Memories were untangling themselves, and she found himself holding onto Benvolio to make sure they wouldn’t become unclear again. 

At last they parted to breathe, both panting slightly. They stood there, completely still, as their minds tried to catch up with what had just happened. 

Mercutia was uncertain. Was this bad? She was married to Tybalt, yet now he kissed another man? Perhaps that was sinful - then again, he was supposed to do as Tybalt said, and her husband  _ had _ told her to get along with Benvolio and let him help her. Yes, there was nothing wrong about this. 

Mercutio was torn out of her thoughts as Benvolio cleared his throat. 

“I, uhm… I should… go pack. Yeah. See you soon.”

He left the room, leaving Mercutia to sort through his emotions.


	15. Et Que Dieu Et Les Hommes Voient Ce Que Nous Sommes

The Capulet get-away house in Mantua was surprisingly small, yet still decently sized. It was cozy, with a tiny rose garden and multiple fruit trees. The inside was sparingly decorated, but stylish and pretty. Only two of the four bedrooms were ready for their arrival; the master bedroom, and the adjacent single room. In addition, they had available a living room, a kitchen, a dining room and a small library. The rest of the rooms were closed off, as there was no reason for them to visit them for the time being. 

Mercutia was excited to be there, yet she was getting more and more conflicted - he wanted to do his duty to Tybalt, but she also couldn’t stop thinking about the way Benvolio’s lips had felt. Moreover, there was something about the way she was presenting right now that brought up old feelings, old memories, and that part of him rebelled against the idea of going all in and become nothing more than a submissive wife. The way she had been the past few months. 

Everything was so confusing, and Mercutio found herself almost wishing to go back to the oblivious joy of merely obeying her husband. Yet now that she had glimpsed a way out, she couldn’t forget it. Even so, when he walked downstairs to meet the two men for supper, he wore a dress, having changed from the shirt-and-trousers combo.

Benvolio looked disappointed at her choice, while Tybalt seemed mostly uncertain. She kissed her husband as she passed him, and gave Benvolio’s hand a brief squeeze. They all sat down to eat. 

It was an awkward and tense meal, and as soon as they were done eating, Benvolio excused himself. Tybalt was lost in thought, so Mercutia did the only thing he could think of and took the dishes over to the sink, where she washed them. Once done, she turned to head upstairs, since Tybalt didn’t seem any less thoughtful.

“Merc, wait.”

He stopped and turned back around, looking at her husband curiously. He motioned her over. Sitting down, Mercutio waited patiently. Tybalt rubbed his face with his hands and sighed.

“Merc, I… I don’t know if I ever apologized properly. For how I behaved at first. I was reckless and inexperienced, and I didn’t know how to handle things. It was immature and foolish. I’m sorry, and I’m sorry for all the harm I caused you.”

“Tybalt -”

“Please - just… let me finish.” Mercutia nodded, and Tybalt inhaled deeply. “I want you to stop wearing dresses. I know -” he cut off her protest before it could begin, “- it was me who told you to wear them. I realise now, however, that that’s not truly who you are.”

He grabbed her hand.

“When I saw you walking into the room tonight, and compared that to how you were on the way over here, I realised that this is not who you are. It’s not just the clothes - it’s the way you carry yourself, how you interact with me and Benvolio, and just… You have this inner light when you’re allowed to be the way you used to. Before me. I can see that even though I have… put you on other thoughts, a part of you still longs to go back. It is all my fault; I was worried that I had married the wrong person, and my fear of being seen with another man got in the way. I know now that I was wrong to let my own fear and shame get in the way.”

His eyes were bright and wet, but no tears fell. A Capulet man never cried, after all.

“Benvolio hasn’t just been helping  _ you _ , you know. We have talked about everything, and although I haven’t been very receptive of it all until now, I remember us talking about why I didn’t want you to be male. I believe the term he used was ‘internalized homophobia’. It is no excuse, but it’s an explanation - albeit a stupid one. Benvolio has been explaining to me why my words and actions hurt you, and I think I understand a lot more now.”

Mercutio squeezed his hand encouragingly. Tybalt was shaking with emotion. He took a pause, breathed for a moment, and kept going.

“There are so many things I thought I did right that were so unfair to you. I didn’t respect you as a person, and that is all on me. You tried to stand up for yourself, and I gave you a hard time for it. Seeing you become less and less yourself has been… Awful. Probably even more so for your Montague friends, but I also worry about you. When you came back from your outing and told me you wanted to carry a  _ child _ for me, I became scared. Because I realised then and there that you were truly changed, and I feared the old you was lost forever. I know now that the one I fell in love with is not Mercutia.”

Tybalt looked Mercutia directly in the eyes. He was completely serious.

“Benvolio was right, and I am a fool. Forgive me, Mercutio. My husband.”


	16. Brûler D'amour Vous Laisse En Cendres

“Morning, Tybs!”

Mercutio gave his spouse a brief kiss as he passed by him on his way to grab breakfast. He shoved a breadroll in his mouth and put a fig in his pocket. Jumping onto the counter, he tore a bite of the bread.

“Morning, Merc,” Tybalt replied. “What’s your plan for today?”

“I ‘unno,” Mercutio shrugged, mouth full of bread. “Might go for a walk along the lake.”

“At  _ this _ time of year? Oh well, go ahead - but grab a coat, will you?”

“Of course, love.” Mercutio jumped down, kissing Tybalt again before heading towards the door. He grabbed a gray coat off a hook and shrugged it on before opening the door. “Bye!”

The weather outside was chilly, but sunny. The wind blew through the fruit trees, rustling the last few leaves. In not long, they would fall and join their siblings on the ground. Cool, gray tones were balanced with the bright reds and oranges of autumn, creating an artistic view of Mantua.

Mercutio strolled towards the lake, waving at people as he passed them. People in Mantua were so friendly - at least compared to Verona, where half the population fought the other half. Here, no one knew he was related to a prince, or that he was born under a different name. He was merely Mercutio, the slightly eccentric man who often smiled but sometimes would spook at nothing. They had accepted him in the few weeks he had been there, and he felt at home.

Plopping down by the swirling water, he sighed contentedly. Life was good - he had slowly started feeling like himself again, slowly started to remember. The transition from being the submissive Mercutia to being himself, Mercutio, had been hard. He was still not quite there. But they were working on it, and he was getting more confident by the day.

His love for Tybalt hadn’t faded as he started realising what had actually happened. In fact, it had grown. As much as he despised the man’s actions early on, he had fallen for the way he was now. Under that hard exterior, Tybalt was a soft man. He would deny it fiercely, but Mercutio had heard him essentially purr while they cuddled at night. (And thus, the nickname ‘Prince of cats’ was teasingly invented.)

The complicated thing about their love, however, was Benvolio. As time went by and his memories untangled, Mercutio remembered more and more of the feelings he’d had - and still had - for him. He knew that even though their marriage was technically not allowed by the church, his belonging was still with Tybalt. He couldn’t get the memories of Benvolio’s lips out of his mind, though…

He sighed heavily, and jumped as a voice appeared behind him. 

"Wow, that's a heavy sigh - you okay?" 

He smiled sheepily at Benvolio. "All good, just thinking." 

"Careful, you might hurt yourself." The Montague smirked as he dropped himself next to Mercutio, who promptly pushed him with a huff of 'rude!'. He chuckled, then sobered up. 

"Seriously, though, everything alright?" 

Mercutio nodded slowly. "Yeah…" He stared out into the air for a while before turning to face Benvolio. "It's just that… Never mind."

He stood up and started walking away. Benvolio rushed to follow him. 

“Did I say something wrong?”

Mercutio shook his head and kept walking, lengthening his steps. Benvolio ran to catch up with him, and grabbed his arm to stop him. “Don’t. You’re not allowed to shut me out like this. Not after I finally got you back.”

Mercutio winced. He tore himself away, but stayed in place.  _ Not after I finally got you back _ . The words made it all the more difficult for him to resist admitting his feelings. He took a deep breath.

“You need to leave.”

“Mercutio, I was just joking, I didn’t -”

“No, I mean you need to leave me and Tybalt. Leave Mantua. Go back to Verona.”

He instantly regretted his words when he saw the hurt, rejected look in Benvolio’s eyes. He shouldn’t have said it. Then again, this was probably easier than if he stayed… Unable to explain himself or apologize, he fled. Benvolio didn’t follow. 


	17. Toute Une Vie À T'aimer

Mercutio tossed and turned. He couldn’t sleep; his mind kept repeating his conversation with Benvolio.  _ Go back to Verona _ . It was such a stupid, impulsive thing to say - sure, it would solve the immediate problem, but could he really survive without Benvolio by his side to save him from himself? 

He turned again, glancing at Tybalt, who was sleeping quietly. He looked so young and innocent when he slept, without the regrets that usually weighed him down. Mercutio closed his eyes.

Suddenly he jolted upright. Was someone moving downstairs? No, the sound was gone- wait, there it was! Someone opened the door, and…

_ Benvolio _ .

Mercutio was immediately even more awake as he shot quietly out of bed, throwing on a robe and running downstairs. He burst out the door, sprinting down the street. “Benvolio!” he shouted. “Benvolio, wait!”

Reaching a fork in the road, he looked both ways, trying to figure out where to go. He spotted a shadow turning around a corner down the left path, so he followed. Out of breath from running after spending months inside, he didn’t let himself pause as he ran towards the person. 

“Ben… Benvolio!”

Panting, Mercutio finally caught up with his friend, grabbing onto him to prevent him from leaving. His breath was quick and hoarse. He tried to speak, but found himself lacking the air to do that. 

“What is it, Escalus.” 

Mercutio winced at the coldness in Benvolio’s voice. He knew he deserved it, but it was difficult to see the emptiness in those pale blue eyes.

“Ben,” he pleaded. “Come back. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it. Please don’t leave.”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because…” Mercutio struggled to find words to explain his emotions. “Because I need you. I can’t do this without you - Ben, please! Please don’t leave me!”

His voice grew hysterical as Benvolio turned away from him and started walking away. Panicking, he wrenched him back around and did the thing he’d cursed himself all day for not doing by the lake. Grabbing Benvolio’s face in his hands, he pressed his lips to Ben’s. 

Benvolio moved, and Mercutio feared he would walk away. However, he soon felt hands in his hair as Benvolio returned the kiss passionately. It was different from their other kisses; this was needy and desperate, a prayer and an answer. They broke apart, resting their foreheads together.

“I love you,” Mercutio whispered.

Benvolio didn’t answer.

“Stay?”

He nodded.


	18. C'est Ce Que Veut: L'amour Heureux

Mercutio giggled as they walked through the door, and Benvolio shushed him. He shut the door behind them, hung his coat on the wall, and followed the quietly snickering man up the stairs. 

He was struggling with wrapping his head around the events of the last twenty-four hours; he had for so long convinced himself not to allow himself to feel what he felt for Mercutio. It was wrong, especially considering he was married to Tybalt. But now, knowing that he felt the way Benvolio did, his feelings for Mercutio all rushed back, increasing in size with every glance and every laugh. 

The giggling in front of him stopped, and he warily approached Mercutio to see what had happened. 

In the corridor ahead stood Tybalt, staring at his robe-clad husband and Benvolio. He seemed confused, suspicious and slightly worried. Mercutio started fidgeting, obviously getting anxious. 

“Tybalt, listen -”

Benvolio broke of the sentence. “Mercutio, go to bed. I’ll explain.” Tybalt met his gaze and nodded. Mercutio obeyed, still looking worried. When the door had closed behind him, Tybalt gestured downstairs. Benvolio followed him into the living room, where they sat down, facing each other. Silence fell, and the staring began.

Benvolio was, as he often was, the first to speak.

“If you want me to leave, I’ll do so, and I’m sorry. However, I just ask you to think of Mercutio, of his wishes and his happiness. If you wish to punish me, go ahead, but leave him out of it.”

Tybalt frowned and shook his head.

“I’m not planning on punishing him. Nor you. Why would I? I’ve told you, I have realised that I just want Merc to be happy - if that means you stay, I have nothing against that. I feel like I know you well enough now to be sure that you won’t run off with him. You’re too honest for that.”

Benvolio wasn’t sure what to respond. This was not what he had expected. He knew Tybalt had changed, but to this extent? “I… Thank you?”

Tybalt smirked a bit. “Of all the Montagues he could have chosen, he picked the right one.” He paused, picking at his nails as he thought. “Do you love him?”

Benvolio turned red. “More than anything. Ever since I got to know him.”

Mercutio’s husband nodded pensively. “Then that’s good enough for me.”

Silence fell again, but it was a slightly more comfortable silence now that they had aired things out a bit. They sat there, the two men who loved the absurdity that was Mercutio, and thought about the past, present and future. Benvolio gestured vaguely in a clumsy attempt to communicate.

“So… What do we do from here? Where do we stand with each other in all this?”

“I think that’s maybe something we need to discuss with Merc? But personally I think I might need an adjustment period. I want us to be able to handle this maturely, but this is all very new to me, so it might be difficult.”

Benvolio nodded understandingly. “Physical affection?”

“Start small, and we should be good. If the two of you want to… disappear to the bedroom, at least warn me first.”

“Alright, that’s fair.” He flashed a smile. “You’re being very nice about this, Tybalt. Thank you.” Shifting in his chair, he glanced away. “I do wonder what this makes us, though.”

Tybalt looked just as uncomfortable as him about this particular train of thought. It was one thing to share Mercutio, but it wasn’t like they could just ignore each other, either. Try as they might, there was no denying the fact that this would change their relationship. Benvolio had to be honest and fair, he liked Tybalt a lot better now than just a month or two earlier. Their talks and sessions while trying to get Mercutio back to himself had brought them closer, to the point where they could laugh together and have a drink without wanting to jump at each other’s throats.

“I guess it makes us… co-partners?” Tybalt sounded unsure but slightly amused. It wasn’t a satisfying answer for either of them, but it would have to do for now. 

Benvolio quirked an eyebrow and asked with humour in his voice, “Should we tell ‘Cutio it’s okay to come down and that he doesn’t have to try to listen from the stairs anymore?”

Tybalt snorted, but called for his husband. Mercutio soon showed up, looking slightly guilty, and looked ready to launch himself into Tybalt’s arms. He paused, however.

“I’m sorry, Tybalt, I-”

“No need to apologize.” The Capulet smiled at him. “Come here.”

Immediately Mercutio rushed over to him, kissing him lovingly. Benvolio heard the muttered “I love you”s, and felt slightly jealous before remembering that Mercutio loved  _ him _ as well. He grabbed his hand as he sat between them. 

It fell to Tybalt to explain what they had talked about. Mercutio seemed absolutely shocked, not saying a word, but merely listening as the situation was cleared. 

“So I get both of you?”

They both nodded. “As long as it’s manageable. We’ll reconsider if something happens. We need to have clear communication, at least.”

“And…” Mercutio seemed embarrassed. “You’re okay with me, like, kissing Ben? You’re sure?

“Anything for you, Merc - I just want you to be happy.”

Mercutio looked disbelieving but elated, and Benvolio drank in the sight of his friend - no, partner - shining with joy. It was an unusual situation for all of them, but finally there was hope that they could somehow sort things out.


	19. À Quelle Étoile, À Quel Dieu, Je Dois Cet Amour Dans Ses Yeux

Mercutio woke up and stretched, his back popping a bit. He groaned and turned over. Opening his eyes, he was met with the sight of Benvolio stretched out beside him, limbs thrown haphazardly in a starfish position. He smiled at the sleeping man. Silently, as to not wake him, Mercutio slid out of bed, giving Benvolio a soft kiss on the tip of his nose. He put on a robe before heading out the door and downstairs.

He was frying some apples with cinnamon when he felt someone sneak up on him. Strong arms hugged him from behind, and rough lips kissed his neck. Mercutio laughed.

“Good morning to you too, Tybalt.”

“‘Morning, my extraordinarily beautiful and witty husband.” Tybalt tried to turn him around to kiss him, but Mercutio simply swatted his hands away with a snort, not letting himself get distracted from the sizzling fruit. Tybalt always got extra affectionate after Mercutio had spent the night with Benvolio - it was kind of cute how jealous he seemed to get. Yet he never pushed, or grumbled, or did anything else to express unhappiness. They were all coping quite well with their new arrangement. 

Tybalt sat down at last, opting to keep his spouse company while he cooked. The apples were getting golden and caramelized, and the smell of cinnamon filled the entire kitchen. It had turned into a routine that whenever Mercutio woke up in a good mood, he would make breakfast. Sometimes he baked bread, other times he ran over to the butcher and got fresh sausages - no matter what he made, it was always fresh and special. This time, the apples came directly from the tree outside. They were the very last ones of the season. Winter was approaching quickly.

Mercutio put a full plate in front of Tybalt, then sat down with his own half-full one. He noticed Tybalt’s disapproving expression at the small amount, but paid it no mind. He found it difficult to eat much at times - it was apparently a left-over consequence of his first few months staying with the Capulets. The rest of the apples were left by the stove to stay warm for Benvolio. 

“Slept well?” Tybalt paused to look up at Mercutio suggestively. 

Mercutio groaned. “Benvolio kept me up most of the night.” At the smirk he received, he added, “Not like that, you ruffian. He snores.” Tybalt huffed a laugh and returned his attention to his food. “Though I’ll have you know he could give you a run for your money.”

Tybalt choked on the piece of apple he was eating and coughed violently. Mercutio suppressed a giggle and nonchalantly picked up a piece of his own. Benvolio chose that moment to enter the room. He looked confusedly at the two of them, kissing the top of Mercutio’s head and giving the still spluttering Tybalt a pat on the back on his way towards the stove. 

“Ah, Benvolio, perfect timing - we were just talking about you!”

“Oh?” The Montague sat down with them, setting down his own plate. Tybalt was turning more and more red, and Mercutio snickered.

“Yes, I was just telling him what a  _ great _ lover you are, and how even he, who is excellent, might have some competition.”

Now both Tybalt  _ and _ Benvolio were blushing furiously, and Mercutio couldn’t hold in his laughter anymore. The look on both their faces made him laugh until he cried and ran out of air. When he finally managed to calm down a bit, he gave them a sheepish grin.

When Mercutio got like this, there was no stopping his flirty teasing. The other two groaned and protested every time, but he knew they secretly appreciated the reminder that Mercutio was as playful and rambunctious again as he’d used to be. He could see in their twinkling eyes as they exchanged knowing glances.

That was another reason why Mercutio teased them; as time went by, he could see the way their looks towards each other changed. He knew that by now, it was only a matter of time before one of them  _ finally _ realised that they liked the other. So he kept switching things up, swapping beds every other night just to keep them on their toes. Once, he had managed to lock them into the master bedroom, only letting them out in the morning. They had been grumpy, but getting better along, when he unlocked the door.

Looking down at his plate, Mercutio realised he felt quite full already. Sneaking a glance at the two others, he hastily scraped the rest of his apples onto Benvolio’s plate. The blonde didn’t notice, but Tybalt’s eyes narrowed slightly. He didn’t say anything, though. Trying to distract him from commenting, Mercutio spoke up.

“By the way, Tybs, I forgot to mention. There is a letter for you.” He handed it over, watching as Tybalt opened and read it before sighing.

“They want me back to Verona for the winter.” Tybalt scrubbed his face with his hands. “The request is for me to leave within the next couple of days.”

“Oh.”

Mercutio’s heart sank, and the grin that was so often present on his face nowadays faded. He had come to love Mantua, with its trees and lake and people. He appreciated the refuge from the violence of his hometown, and even more than that he liked having both his partners with him. 

“I guess we’ll be saying goodbye, then.” Benvolio’s voice was quiet and as heartbroken as Mercutio felt. Tybalt’s head shot up.

“What are you talking about? Goodbye?” He shook his head. “No, we’re not leaving without you. We would miss you too much.”

_ We. _

They all saw the significance of his words, but none of them mentioned it.

When they left the house the next day, all three of them left, hand in hand.


	20. Par Amour, On Peut Gagner

The Escalus mansion was filled with people. Capulets and Montagues alike milled around, trying to avoid each other (they knew that any fighting in the prince’s house would end with banishment). The dance floor was crowded, and the bar even more so. Christmas decorations covered the room.

Mercutio observed all this, and felt a smile tug on his lips. It was good to be back in his own home - as much as he’d loved the Capulet house in Mantua, he knew that ultimately, they always had to return to Verona. This was where their families and their lives were, and it was foolish to think they could ever escape that.

Spotting Romeo approaching the white-clad Juliet, Mercutio snorted. Sure, that would go over well. Then again, he could probably have Tybalt pull some threads, that might help with the Capulet side. Benvolio could aid Romeo on the Montague side, and Mercutio could convince his uncle to help out. Yes, that might work - if Romeo didn’t suddenly decide he was bored of her. He  _ did _ seem more infatuated than usual, though, even though he had barely talked to Juliet. 

Feeling his husband’s arm around his waist, he hummed contentedly. Tybalt was warm and comforting, and Mercutio let himself lean against him. Turning his head, he let their lips meet for a brief moment. 

“Have you seen Benvolio, my love?” Tybalt asked, brushing his hand through Mercutio’s curls.

“No - but I would appreciate it if you could find him and man up a little,” Mercutio answered with a knowing smile, getting a playful swat from his blushing husband for his teasing. Silence fell between them, and they simply drowned in the comfort of each other. In the end, though, Tybalt spoke up.

“Have you spoken any more with the Montague puppy?” His eyes were fixed on his cousin and Romeo, who were dancing with each other.

“Yeah. It was difficult for him to understand everything at first, but now he’s very supportive - he just pretends to gag whenever Ben and I as much as hug each other. He wants to meet you, though.” Mercutio looked up to meet his eyes. “You know, just because he’s a ‘Montague puppy’, as you call him, doesn’t mean you can’t get along, my Prince of Cats.”

Tybalt made a non-committal sound and untangled himself from Mercutio. “I’ll go find Benvolio - you go get yourself some food.” He left before there could be any protests, throwing a strict glare over his shoulder. 

Sighing, Mercutio moved towards the buffet. Grabbing a bread roll (yes, he really loved bread - it was grainy gold), he ate small bites while watching the crowd. Very few noticed him, and even fewer gave him any attention. He preferred it that way.

He thought about his life, about his position in Verona. Yes, most people still saw him as female, and he had a lot less rights than he should’ve had (something he and Juliet had heatedly discussed many a time since he returned from Mantua - they both agreed that seeing someone as lesser just because of how they were born was idiotic), but he  _ was _ better off than he could have been, considering the power in his name.

Mercutio Escalus Capulet.

He’d wanted to add in the Montague name as well, but his partners had protested. “I’d have the three mightiest names in Verona,” he had joked. “Yes,” Tybalt had replied, “And our secret would be out and our relationship at risk.” The idea had been quickly dropped after that.

The prince knew, of course. Mercutio had moved back in with his uncle, and Tybalt came with him. The frequent visits from Benvolio had tipped the man off, and all three were confronted while sitting on their bed talking one evening. Luckily, prince Escalus had turned into an accepting man after Mercutio’s return, simply happy to have his formerly-niece-now-nephew back, and he had had no issue with the trio. In fact, Mercutio had returned from his daily walk the following day to find an even bigger bed and an extra set of drawers in his chambers. After that, Benvolio had basically moved in as well.

Benvolio and Tybalt had still not openly admitted their feelings to each other, but they might as well have - while they weren’t physical with each other, they could be seen devouring each other with their eyes, and more often than not they were wrapped up in some kind of conversation. Mercutio suspected it was only a matter of days, now, maybe a week or two at most. Considering Tybalt’s quest to find Benvolio, it would probably be sooner rather than later.

Speaking of which - there the Capulet was! He was motioning for Mercutio to come over, so he did, following him outside the room. He noticed how Tybalt seemed to almost bounce, and grinned.

“I knew it.”

“Oh, shush it.”

Poking at his partner’s shoulder, Mercutio teasingly said, “Everyone could see how you two were eye-fu-”

“Mercutioooo,” Tybalt whined indignatedly. “Shut up.”

He laughed.

“So, what now?”

Tybalt cleared his throat. “Benvolio requests you upstairs.”

“Oh, does he, now?” His eyebrow rose, and he smirked. “Well, best not keep him waiting, then.”

They walked up the stairs hand in hand, entering Mercutio’s - their - chambers without knocking. Benvolio flew up from the bed when they entered, rushing over to kiss first Mercutio, then hesitantly turning towards Tybalt, who took matters in his own hands and kissed the Montague. Grinning, Mercutio closed the door and faced the both of them.

“So, about that thing with who could give who a run for their money - bet still on?”

Two pairs of hands pulled him over to the bed.


End file.
